Twenty Thirteen
by Dizzy-Dreamer
Summary: At eighteen years old, Payson Keeler has achieved everything she has ever wanted in her career – and she's done it alone. [COMPLETE]
1. Prologue

_I got sucked in by this show and fell in love all over again. It doesn't matter how many times I watch it, it's always just like the first time. Bear with me, this is my first trip to Boulder._

* * *

Her dismount was perfect. Blinded by flashbulbs and deafened by the roar of the most enthusiastic crowd she had ever performed for, she raised her arms, triumphant, and grinned into the sea of cheering spectators. This was London. This was her ambition. This was her childhood dream and it was coming true _right now._

No one could cheer louder than her parents. Her staunchest advocates, even in her darkest days, they were front and centre at the Olympic stadium, pockets full of tissues ready to watch their little girl climb the podium steps. No one could cheer louder than them, but no one could cheer with a bigger sense of relief than the man in the back row beside the fire exit. It wasn't that he didn't believe in her – after her parents, of course, he had believed in her even when she lost faith in herself – it was just that he hadn't breathed for the last two years, since the world championships that led to the Olympic training and ultimately, the biggest sporting event in the world.

As the last athlete to perform, there would be no waiting or guessing beyond the announcement of her scores. Once they were released, the champion would be clear. In fourteen years of competitive sport, eight at the elite level, she had never felt so nervous – or so at peace. She sat on the bench beside her teammates, eyes closed in her infamous focus. The arena could have fallen around her ears and she wouldn't have noticed – until the second cheer and frantic, forceful shaking of her shoulders.

Climbing the podium steps for real – just as she had promised her parents at four years old, just as she had watched her idols do a hundred times over – was even more dazzling than she had ever imagined. It was the icing on the most perfect cake: a trip to the Olympics as a world-class athlete _and _a gold medal as a souvenir.

He slipped out of the fire exit as _Star Spangled Banner _began to play.


	2. Chapter 1

_This show gets me in the gut, man. Every single time. I've been rewatching and crying like a baby._

* * *

For some, the come-down from the Olympics had been brutal. Payson had watched several of her friends and team-mates lose all the willpower and discipline they had built over the years and become new people entirely, indulging in all the things previously forbidden to them just because they could. For Payson, the dream wasn't over. Even though, at only eighteen, she had achieved all she had ever wanted in her career, she knew she had more in her – more national championships, more world championships, maybe even another shot at the Olympics if her body could hold out long enough.

No one had been surprised after the Olympics when Payson announced she wasn't ready to retire just yet. Whilst Lauren and Kaylie hung up their leotards in favour of college textbooks, Payson threw herself back into the same rigorous training routine she had always worked with.

At six in the morning, the day was already bright and the sky mostly cloudless. Jingling car keys dangling from her left index finger, Payson slammed the door shut and locked it, made a cursory glance each way down the road before jogging across it and sliding into her favourite coffee house just before the door shut behind the previous customer. She had discovered the best smoothies she had ever tasted in this quiet café and they had become a part of her morning routine. After some stretching and a shower, she'd stop for a smoothie on her way to The Rock.

That morning, however, something was different. The regular customers smiled and said hello just as they always did, but there was a figure hunched in the corner seat, Payson's usual spot, with his back to the room. The café was small and the space between tables was barely wide enough for Payson, carrying a gym bag on one arm and balancing a wallet and a smoothie cup in the other. It seemed almost inevitable that she would disturb the brooding man on her way to the next table. She apologised quickly, almost on auto-pilot, but the man looked up and Payson gasped, finding herself looking deep into a pair of eyes she thought she'd seen for the very last time.

"Sasha?"

He looked tired. His eyes were dark and heavy with lack of sleep and the cup of piping hot espresso in front of him looked to be his lifeline in that moment. He looked just as surprised to see her as she was him. He had slipped out quietly after the bittersweet gymnastics final in London a year ago; a secret spectator amongst millions, she hadn't even known he was there.

Even though Sasha knew Payson still lived and trained in Boulder – and she was the last person he had wanted to see – he had returned to Colorado shortly after the end of the Olympics. He had been surprised at how long it had taken to bump into her, not that he had been actively trying to avoid her, but he knew that it was inevitable – and like all inevitable things, it had finally happened.

"What are you doing here?"

Her voice was just as he remembered it; honey with a hint of spice and it sent shivers down his spine. She looked confused and concerned, still standing in the space between two tables, eyes wide.

"I, uh," he opened his mouth to speak but his voice was hoarse. He seldom spoke to anyone these days – mostly, he supposed, because he didn't have anyone to speak to. "I'm drinking coffee." He gestured to the tiny cup on a small porcelain saucer in front of him. "What do you think I'm doing?" He had intended to sound jokey, perhaps a little sarcastic, but his words came out vindictive and cutting and Payson flinched, pale green eyes flashing with hurt.

"Never mind," she answered, hurried. "I have to go. I'll—bye," she stumbled over chair legs in her haste to leave, almost spilling her smoothie as she fled the café to the sanctuary of her car. In the safety of the driver's seat, hidden behind tinted windows, her shoulders began to shake.


	3. Chapter 2

Sasha Belov was a man with many talents. True, most of them were athletic and the vast majority of those had long since gone; a combination of age and injury conspiring against his once world-class-athletic body. Once the physical talents were gone, Sasha turned his hand to coaching, realising that he could remain in the world he loved so much without risking further injury.

The gymnasts he had coached held a place in his heart – they had all shown him something unique and different in the sport he thought he knew inside out and his life was all the more rich for that. Payson Keeler, however, was the one he couldn't shake. From the moment he saw her enter the elite level, he knew there was something special about the tiny, blonde firecracker who could surely break records with her cartwheels. She was a powerhouse in every sense of the word and finally meeting her only confirmed what he already knew.

Somewhere deep inside his sleep-deprived, reclusive, _bored out of his mind_ brain, he realised Payson was the reason he had gone back to Boulder instead of returning to his cabin in California. Watching her win her Olympic gold medal had been the sweetest, most torturous moment of his life. He knew he had let her down more times than he could count; each time, his broken promises waking him in cold sweats in the middle of the night. He knew he could never forgive himself for not being the man of his word he had always hoped to be and he was sure she could never forgive him for abandoning her so many times.

He drank his double espresso in one long drink before standing and leaving the café, walking a long, convoluted route through the park to the run-down warehouse parking lot on the other side of town. The run-down warehouse housed a boxing ring and an amateur club and the owner let Sasha park his Airstream outside. It had been a very long time since he dipped low enough to drink before nine AM, but upon entering his motorhome, Sasha made a beeline for the kitchen area and the six-pack of beer he kept in the fridge.

**(**xoxo**)**

Payson couldn't focus. Sprinting towards the vault, eyes on the horse, she would pull up sharp inches from the springboard, her former coach's face filling her vision just beyond the landing mat. She shook her head.

"Get it together, Keeler," she muttered to herself. The other elite gymnasts at The Rock were several years younger than she was and they reminded her of herself at that age – they had formed a group not entirely dissimilar to that of her own friendship with Lauren and Kaylie and she had no desire to get involved in their adolescent drama.

Unfortunately, her head was full of adolescent drama again. After Sasha had left – again, despite telling her he wasn't going anywhere – again – she had closed off her heart to anyone who tried to get close. Relationships with coaches were strictly professional, not a hint of friendship, and her real friendships with Kaylie and Lauren suffered almost to the point of breakdown. She was lucky these days if she spoke to either of them once a month; although at opposite ends of California, she knew the two were still close and saw each other regularly.

Payson had become a machine, driven to perfection a hundred times more than ever before. It had paid off, winning national and world championship gold medals before culminating in team, floor and all-round gold medals in London. Before Sasha left, retirement after London had been an option for Payson. She had even been considering coaching despite once having told Sasha she wasn't interested, realising that if she could do for one girl even half of what Sasha had done for her, she would live a happy and fulfilled life. But facing world championships and the Olympics without Sasha changed her mind. For Payson, gymnastics was the only thing worth giving a damn about and it would always be the only thing worth giving a damn about.

She laughed drily to herself as she stepped into the empty locker room and sat heavily on a wooden bench. _It's like I'm a jilted lover_, she mused. _Except he was only my coach and he would never believe that I loved him._

**(**xoxo**)**

The small radio on the table was the only real connection Sasha had with the outside world. It remained tuned to the sports stations and for the most part, he treated it as white noise – just something to dull the ever-vicious voice of his conscience. The times her name was mentioned were the only times Sasha really paid attention but his conscience wouldn't let him listen closely for long.

_She was just a girl_, it would tell him. _She put all her trust in you and you walked away_.

**(**xoxo**)**

The first time Sasha had left, Payson blamed herself. She was convinced she wasn't good enough – surely a multi-gold-medallist Olympian would only coach the very best gymnasts. Her naiveté led her to work longer, push harder and ultimately track down her coach and convince him to return. The second time he left, she was wiser. She knew she was good enough – _more _than good enough, for crying out loud, she was the world champion in her sport. The only thing on her mind once the anger and resentment died down was determination. Payson was determined to prove herself as a champion – with _or _without Sasha by her side.


	4. Chapter 3

_this one chapter is over 50% of the entire fanfic. i have no idea how that happened, but it flowed out of me and i just couldn't split it._

* * *

A week had passed since Payson's last breakfast smoothie. She had been too afraid of returning to the café for fear of finding Sasha there again. It wasn't necessarily that she didn't want to see him again: more that she was too afraid to see him again. Losing him the first time had been heart-breaking; the second time devastating, although in a way, Payson felt almost prepared. She simply put up walls of steel around her heart and mind and set sail for Olympic glory alone.

In that week, Payson had almost doubled the amount of time spent training. She saw Sasha's face at the end of every tumbling pass and heard his voice every time she pointed her toes too early or extended her arms too lazily.

Later in the evenings, the gym was empty but for the quiet, reliable, dependable new coach in her office, poring over paperwork – and Payson, stretching on the mats. The evenings gave her time to think – about gymnastics, about the Olympics, about Sasha… she remembered the first time he walked into the gym and she was pretty sure she fell in love with him there and then. She could still remember the butterflies in her stomach when he knew her name, when he smiled at her routines, when he offered her a gold medal on loan, just until she won a matching one of her own. The medal still lived in the back of a drawer, tucked out of sight.

Her relationship with Sasha had always been different from her relationship with any other coach. They had connected on a level beyond that of a student-teacher and become friends – Payson always felt Sasha was the only person she had ever met who truly understood her drive, her focus and her dream.

Her drive, focus and dream had only intensified since the Olympics.

**(**xoxo**)**

A week of beer before ten had taken its toll on Sasha. He said little and slept less, returning to the reclusive ways of his past. Seeing Payson had been a bigger shock than he had imagined. Payson Keeler had been the deciding factor in his decision to coach at The Rock. He saw a fire and passion in every movement that reminded him so much of himself – a desire and ambition to be nothing but the best possible gymnast.

Despite his position of trust, Payson's adolescence and the fact that surely a sixteen year old gymnast wouldn't be even remotely interested in a thirty-three year old has-been with a blown out knee, Sasha couldn't help but see Payson more and more for _Payson_, rather than his star gymnast. He began to realise just how much he liked what he saw.

Their relationship was unconventional to say the least: whilst other gymnasts under his tutelage would tread on eggshells around him, obey every instruction and work hard to please, Payson would tease him with a cheeky smile, sit with him to eat her lunch with shoeless feet propped up on his desk and challenge him when he coached. Payson Keeler was no ordinary gymnast – and Sasha Belov loved things out of the ordinary.

**(**xoxo**)**

"Come on, Payson, I gotta lock up," Jennifer Mann called from the bottom of the steps leading to her office.

"Can't you just leave me a key? I want to work on some dance steps." Payson didn't stop moving to answer her coach.

Jennifer sighed loudly and thought for a moment. "Dance ONLY, Payson," she warned. "I'll check the cameras!" She tossed a small ring of keys to the mat off to the side of the gym. "I'll see you in the morning."

Payson had been here before. No other coach had let her be alone in the gym – but she was an Olympic champion now, the oldest, most experienced and by far the most mature of the gymnasts at The Rock. Jennifer trusted her, and whilst Payson knew that should have spoken volumes, she couldn't help but feel little more than apathy towards her coach.

Payson didn't intend to stay too much later – there wasn't much she really felt like working on other than tumbling, and she knew Jennifer would be true to her word about watching back camera footage.

Tentatively sitting in the middle of the floor, Payson curled herself into a position she hadn't felt in a while. Something compelled her to move and she rose into the routine that had seen her onto the world team two years ago – her big return to competition as an artistic gymnast. She hadn't visited this routine for a long time – to her, it symbolised a time she'd rather forget, time spent with Sasha as her coach, her mentor and her friend.

As the routine came full circle and she fell to the floor once more, she realised she was no longer alone in the gym.

"Forgot something?" she called out. She assumed Jennifer had left something behind in the office – not an uncommon occurrence.

"I forgot how beautifully you move," a hoarse voice answered. Payson's throat constricted. That voice was the last thing she expected to hear. She inhaled sharply and pulled herself to her feet as he walked slowly towards her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, repeating her words from the previous week.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I went for a walk and I ended up here."

"You're two years too late," Payson scoffed, words laced with bitterness.

Sasha stood silent for a moment. "Would you believe me if I told you I'm sorry?"

Payson scoffed once again. "Well, considering you told me several things that turned out not to be true, no."

Sasha closed his eyes in a long blink, years of experience allowing him to expertly hide the hurt from her cutting words. He had no idea how to explain why he left because he couldn't even explain it to himself.

"Do you even have the decency to explain?" Payson had never intimidated him more. At only five-foot-four, she stood eight inches below him, but as she glared, hands on hips, he couldn't help but feel a little worried.

"I couldn't stay," he said simply.

"Duh," Payson whispered under her breath.

Sasha's frustration was growing – with himself, mostly, for breaking old promises and for not having explanations, but also with her for not understanding. One of the things he had always marvelled at with their relationship was their understanding – they could communicate without words, so perfectly in tune with one another.

"Do you want to know why I couldn't stay?" Sasha raised his voice. It had been a long time since he'd felt such passion and anger – it had been a long time since he'd felt so much of anything. He was practically shaking with emotion. Payson recoiled slightly at the volume increase, nodding. She wasn't entirely sure she'd like his answer, but she knew if she didn't listen now, she would likely never get this chance again. "Because you kissed me."

The words were quieter than before but they hit Payson like a slap in the face. She raised her arms.

"That was years ago, we got over that!" she cried. "What about Swan Lake, what about Worlds trials?"

"I wanted to kiss you back."

The words were simple and hushed, the outburst of emotion over. Sasha's shoulders slumped in dejection. Payson had never seen that look on his face before – although she could read him like a book, he had always been able to hide his emotions. This time, they were written all over his face as clear as day.

"You… left because you wanted to kiss me?"

"I was your coach, Payson," Sasha answered. "You trusted me, your mother trusted me, the NGO trusted me – you were a child," he continued. "There are a hundred reasons why it was wrong for me to feel that way."

"I was seventeen," Payson whispered, remembering the elation she had felt at nailing her routine right before she kissed him. "That's legal."

"But you were my student," Sasha reminded her. "That's not legal."

"And now?" Payson asked.

"What about now?"

"You're not my coach anymore," Payson explained dumbly, as though she were talking to a child.

"Payson, I'm thirty five years old," Sasha scoffed. "I'm thirty five, I live in a trailer in an abandoned parking lot and I start drinking at eight thirty every morning."

Payson looked horrified. "Sasha…" she began.

"How I felt, or feel about you is completely irrelevant," he cut her off. "You're an elite athlete, a beautiful woman in her prime. You don't need me anymore."

"I do need you," she whispered. If not for the fact that throughout their conversation, they had gradually stepped closer and closer to one another, Sasha wouldn't have heard her.

"How many gold medals did you win without me?" he almost smiled.

"Seven," Payson answered, barely able to suppress a smile of her own. "Four at the Olympics and three at Worlds. Two silvers, too."

Sasha smiled for the first time. "You did all that on your own, Payson."

"But I couldn't have got to Worlds without you," Payson's smile faded and her tone pleaded with him. "I can't do this all over again without you."

Sasha reached up and brushed her cheekbone with his fingertips. Her skin was just as soft as he remembered and the jolt of electricity as skin met skin was just as present. Payson closed her eyes. Her breathing quickened, every nerve ending in her body on high alert being so close to him.

"_Fată frumoasă,_" he whispered and Payson shivered lightly. Sasha's eyes fluttered closed as he dropped his head closer to hers, taking slow, even breaths to calm his racing heart. She had always been able to send him crazy with desire without so much as a single touch. Payson raised herself onto her toes and brushed her lips against his, so feather-lightly he barely felt it at all – but it was enough. Before she could move away, he tangled a hand in her hair and pulled her face towards his, lips crashing together and releasing four years of love, anger, resentment and rage in the most excruciatingly arousing kiss he had ever experiencing.

"You wanted to kiss me," Payson said through swollen lips, breathing heavily as they pulled apart. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, darkened with desire and Sasha was fighting to retain his composure. He could never forgive himself if he hurt her again.

"I've wanted to kiss you since I gave you my medal," he whispered with a light chuckle. "Where is that, by the way?"

"It's in my junk drawer," Payson answered nonchalantly. "I've wanted to kiss you since you first walked in here."

"Oh, your junk drawer, huh?" Sasha laughed, detangling his fingers from her hair and resting his hand on the back of her neck. His other hand rested on the curve of her hip, bone fitting perfectly into the palm of his hand.

"Well, I have my own now," she answered. "You'll be wanting it back."

"Why don't we swap?" he suggested boldly. Payson furrowed her brow. "You give me back my medal and I give you my word," he explained. "I give you my word that I will _never _leave you again, Payson Keeler."

Payson's eyes filled with tears. She had heard those words before and the promise had been broken just as easily as it had been made. Her reaction was not lost on Sasha who moved his hand round to wipe away her tears with the pad of his thumb.

"It breaks my heart to see you cry," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. Payson squeezed her eyes shut tight.

"I want this to be real," she whispered through tears. "I want this to be real so bad. I've wanted this for so long…"

"You have it," Sasha whispered. "You have it, Payson. I promise I'm not going anywhere. Not again. Not now."

"I love you," she whispered into his chest, collapsing against him, exhausted.

He smiled a teary-eyed smile. "I have always loved you."

* * *

'_Fată frumoasă' - 'beautiful girl'. thanks to diana for translating!_


End file.
